Transformations
by random rambler
Summary: or, how Draco, prejudiced prat extraordinaire, became Gabriel, Captain of the First Company of the Knights. Part of the Avalonian Knights series. Rated for violence and because Voldemort is a nutcase.


A/N: Happy 2010! Sorry for the hiatus, but this year started off rough and I didn't feel like writing for a while, but hopefully that's wearing off.

So this is set just after the end of OotP, after the Death Eaters are sent to Azkaban. It's also part of my stories about the Avalonian Knights, which started out canon-compliant, but have recently veered off into AU-ness, but don't let that scare you away.

Please, review! I have no idea if my writing is good or bad unless I get feedback.

Transformations

Chapter 1: Initiation

"Draco, it's time," Narcissa Malfoy's voice was choked with fear, and really, who would not be afraid. Her baby, her only son, was about to be sacrificed to a madman's sense of revenge. No, she stopped that thought in midair. It would not be wise to think of the Dark Lord in those terms. She, though not Marked, was bound to Him, through her son, and her husband, imprisoned as he was.

Lucius. The mere thought of her bright angel in Azkaban was nearly enough to send Narcissa over the edge into hysterics. To the world, the Malfoys were a marriage of convenience, but in private, a more compatible pair could not be envisioned. They adored each other, doted on their son, and had stuck it out through two wars.

Well, one war and the beginning of another, and from the looks of it, this one would be just as bad as the last one. Narcissa had only the slightest knowledge of Necromancy, the art of bringing back the dead, but she knew that those people brought back from the afterlife were but pale echoes of the people they were in life. Yet, somehow the Dark Lord had managed it. He had returned from the grave, just as powerful as ever. And now he wanted her son.

It didn't help that Draco was all for it. He couldn't wait to become a Death Eater and prove his loyalty to the cause. The whole scenario reminded Narcissa of the time Draco, aged six, had wanted a broomstick of his own. He had begged and pleaded, but when the promised broom had appeared, his interest had waned within a week. Only this time, waning interest could mean death.

"You know, some people have all day to contemplate the universe, but I am not one of them. My Lord bids me bring you to him, and I will yet do so, though you delay me." That was Ashleigh O'Kennedy, the Dark Lord's pet. She was only just sixteen, and the Dark Lord favored her as if she were his own child. No one was bold enough to say so, however, as she had a reputation for maiming and killing anyone who got in her way. She also had a standing feud with Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix. Everyone knew how Bella had chopped off the little finger of Ashleigh's right hand and fed it to a Muggle the night of the Azkaban breakout. And that was only the beginning of the screaming matches and currying favor, Narcissa thought, as she and Draco followed Ashleigh to the room that she had privately dubbed 'The Throne Room'.

The door swung open and the trio processed into the room. Ashleigh knelt gracefully and said, in her odd manner, "Here I am come to bring you the Malfoys, my lord."

"Good, very good. Come and sit by me, my dear," the Dark Lord's serpentine voice crept into every corner of the room, soft as it was. Narcissa felt Draco trembling by her side.

Ashleigh seated herself on the step below the Dark Lord's throne and he stroked her red curls, as if she were a cat sitting on her master's lap. A strange dynamic, Narcissa mused, almost hysterically, but was abruptly torn from her panicked thoughts by her lord.

"Draco, it is my wish that you become one of us. I know you are young, but I have faith that you will prove a useful servant. And, of course, what is the Dark without a Malfoy to aid its course?" The Dark Lord's voice was smooth, ingratiating, persuading.

"My lord, I would be honored to serve you," Draco said quietly, his voice amazingly calm. Was it Narcissa's imagination, or did she see Ashleigh's expression flicker disappointedly? Probably she was afraid of a new recruit taking her place.

"And you, Narcissa? Your husband has been torn from you by my service, but still your loyalty remains true, I hope?"

Narcissa managed to keep herself from shaking too visibly. "It does, my lord. I am always proud to aid your cause, though I think my son far too young for such a responsibility."

"Others have been Marked younger than Draco, and have flourished," Ashleigh broke into the conversation, her expression once again neutral.

"Indeed, my dear, you are correct," the Dark Lord deigned to address his lapdog. "And so you shall become a Death Eater tonight, Draco. I will send you to back to Hogwarts with an errand, my good and faithful servant."

"I would be honored to do your bidding, my lord," Draco now sounded eager, as Narcissa watched her worst nightmare come true.

"Very good. And now you will come to the fire and be Marked."

Narcissa stayed where she was as Draco, Ashleigh, and the Dark Lord moved close to the fireplace, in which an iron had been laid. A small stone table was set off to the side, and Draco was instructed to kneel before it.

"Do you swear to be my loyal servant, to do my bidding as I may command, as long as you shall live?" The Dark Lord's snake-like face was lit oddly by the flickering flames, but Narcissa could see an expression of triumph from where she stood.

"I swear, my lord," Draco replied. That was it? Her son was sold into eternal slavery with just four words? Narcissa fought back a sob, but the worst was yet to come.

Ashleigh, who had remained motionless until now, grasped Draco's left wrist and pulled up the sleeve of his robe. She took a loop of leather and slipped over his hand, then leaned forward to rest her right hand briefly on his cheek. Narcissa saw her heartbreakingly gentle smile, and heard her say; so softly, so reassuringly, "Easy now. It's all right. It only hurts for a moment." She was so convincing that Narcissa believed her for an instant. But then, the Dark Lord took the red-hot iron from the fire, Ashleigh positioned Draco's arm on the stone and held it in place with the leather loop, and there was a sizzling sound. Draco managed an instant of silence before an agonized scream tore itself from his throat.

A moment passed before Narcissa registered something hard beneath her. It was the floor. It took another moment to realize that her face was wet. She must have fainted and been revived. Sure enough, she looked up to see dark red hair and a fiercely tattooed face. Ashleigh. She couldn't have been more subtle? Really, who throws water on a person's face?

Ashleigh slipped her hands under Narcissa's arms and hauled her to her feet. She was surprisingly strong. Narcissa slipped a little, but regained her equilibrium quickly. She shook herself out of the younger girl's grip and moved to Draco's side. He was sitting on the floor, holding his left arm in his right, shaking slightly. He looked up at her, his grey eyes wet. "I'm all right, Mother," he said with a weak smile. She touched his hair, needing to say something, but no words came.

"The Dark Lord commands your attention," Ashleigh said quietly. She was right. The Dark Lord was sitting on his throne, watching the scene unfold with surprising patience. Narcissa guessed that most people reacted to a branding in a similar fashion.

Draco stood carefully and bowed to his lord. "My lord, how may I serve you?"

"I told you that I would send you to Hogwarts with an errand. I wish you to kill Albus Dumbledore before the year has ended. You will keep this errand secret and you _will not_ fail me."

Narcissa's mouth dropped open in horror before she remembered that such a reaction was unseemly for a pureblood witch. However, she couldn't stop herself from protesting, "My lord, he is but a child. How can he defeat such a powerful wizard as Dumbledore?"

"I for one will be very interested to know how your son plans to accomplish this task Narcissa, especially since it is your life that will be forfeit if he does not succeed. Perhaps this incentive will strengthen his efforts," the Dark Lord hissed malevolently. The very air in the room seemed to darken at this pronouncement.

Draco was shaking so badly that Narcissa thought he would fall over. Somehow he steadied himself enough to respond, "I will not fail you, my lord."

"See that you do not. You are both dismissed."

Narcissa and Draco followed Ashleigh out of the room. As they left Calveria House, Narcissa remembered how she had felt after Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, that the nightmare might be over. Now she knew herself to be wrong. The nightmare hadn't even begun.

OK, on that cheesy note…

I know Voldemort seems too charming and normal, but I've always envisioned him as the type to be very persuasive and even gentle, until his recruits are given the dark mark and there's no going back. Then he can unleash the sociopath within.

Please review!


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